There was no enthusiasm manifest among the four boys when again they
walked across the field on their way to the old Meeker House. As they
came near the building, suddenly lights were seen in the windows once
more and a faint sound of the automobile horn again was heard.
"Shall we go in?" inquired Fred, his voice trembling in spite of his
attempt to control it.
"It's getting late," suggested George. There was a note of laughter in
his voice, but his companions were so excited that they were scarcely
aware of it. "Perhaps we had better put it off until some other time."
"That's the way I feel about it," joined in John.
"All right," said George, "and we must look after our car too. My father
wouldn't want me to lose the old car as well as the new one."
Like the famous soldiers who marched up the hill and then marched down
again, the Go Ahead boys without protest on the part of any member of
the party retraced their way to the road and silently took their places
in the car.
Conversation lagged and when at last they arrived at George's home they
left the car in the garage and then quickly entered the house.
When they came into the room where the lights were shining they stared
blankly at one another for a moment and then laughed loudly.
"What a pack of brave fellows we are, aren't we?" said George.
"We are going to find out about that old house," declared John quietly.
To the surprise of the boys George's father had arrived during their
absence. He was an interested listener to the story which the boys had
to relate, although none of them detected the sly glance which passed
between him and George. Evidently there was something understood by them
which was unknown to the others.
"Yes," said Mr. Sanders when the boys were seated in the room. "There
have been some strange occurrences in this part of the country from the
days when it was first settled."
"I guess that's so," said Grant. "We were hearing about the young fellow
who was captured up here in the Ramapo Pass in the Revolution."
"Do you mean young Montagnie?"
"We don't know his name," replied Grant, "but it was the one who was
used by Washington as a messenger without his understanding it."
"That's the fellow," said Mr. Sanders. "I have always been greatly
interested in him. I do not think people ever have appreciated the part
he took in the plan which Washington wanted to try. He was a fine young
chap, about twenty years of age, and was a licensed preacher. Washington
had heard such good reports of him that when he came to try his plan he
sent for young Montagnie one morning up on the Hudson at Dobbs Ferry. It
was there the Continental army was encamped at the time. The general
told Montagnie that he had heard good reports of him and the young
soldier was so embarrassed that he could only stammer his thanks. Then
Washington went on to tell him that he wanted him to go across the
country and through the Ramapo Pass and carry a message to General
Heath, who was then at Morristown. He explained carefully how the papers
were to be sewed inside the lining of his coat. Young Montagnie agreed,
but suggested that he knew a better way across the country. There was
danger of his being taken if he should go down through the Ramapo
Valley. It is said that Washington drew himself up to his full height
and looked sternly at the young soldier as he thundered at him, 'It is
your business to obey.' And of course there was nothing more to be
said."
"He must have had a strange feeling when he went down through the Pass,"
suggested John. "He knew what the danger was and at the same time he
knew that he could find his way safely across the country without going
into the Pass. It seems strange that he did not suspect the trick
Washington was trying to play."
"Apparently he didn't suspect anything," said Mr. Sanders. "It was early
in the morning when he entered the narrow defile. The only weapon he had
was a stout club and he was swinging along at a good rate, confident
that if he once safely got through the Pass many of his perils would be
over. He had just entered one end of the Pass when he saw five men
coming in at the other end.
"He instantly recognized the leader as young Richard Smith, whose father
he had seen hanged up in Goshen a few days before this time. You see his
father was one of the worst of the cowboys. At least many of his
dastardly deeds were committed against the colonists, but he didn't stop
for that and he was willing to have dealings with either side, provided
he made by the transaction."
"What was he hanged for?" inquired John.
"Why, the people became so indignant at last that about two hundred of
the boys and men started after him one day. Of course he ran then, but
they chased him clear down to Long Island."
"Did they catch him?" inquired John.
"They most certainly did, and they brought him back to Goshen and he was
hanged there in the courtyard. Then his son, Richard, declared he would
revenge his father's death and it was this young man whom Montagnie saw
when he came into the Ramapo Pass just at sunrise that morning away back
in 1781.
"The young messenger felt of the letter inside the lining of his coat to
make sure that it was safe and grasping his club more firmly and doing
his utmost to appear indifferent he at once turned and approached the
men. Very likely he would have run if he thought he could escape in that
manner, but he had no weapon except his club while the others were
armed. He well knew that if he should try to escape they would at once
start after him.
"He quietly saluted the men when he passed them and received a grunt
from Richard in response. However, he was not critical, as now he was
hoping that his peril had been passed. He was not to get away so easily,
however, for before he came out into the open road he was hailed by the
men behind him and ordered to stop. Once more the young preacher was
tempted to run, but he was aware that his effort would be useless.
Accordingly he waited for the men to come back to him, and when Richard
Smith gruffly demanded who he was and where he was going he answered in
a general way saying that he was simply going across the country, 'That
won't do,' said Richard loudly, 'that may mean to New York or it may
mean to Morristown. Who are you anyway?'
"By this time Montagnie was convinced that he was in deadly peril and he
quickly decided to sell his life as dearly as possible. Swinging his
club he knocked down one of them and leaping over his prostrate body
started up the steep side of the Pass. For some reason he was not fired
upon but before he gained the top he was astonished to see two of the
party whom he had left in the valley now approaching from above him,
almost as if they had dropped out of the clouds."
"How did they do it?" inquired Grant.
"Very likely they knew of a short cut. At all events the young messenger
was caught between the two parties. They took him to a little shanty in
the woods and then began to search him. They cut his hat into shreds,
and of course found nothing valuable. Then they made him take off his
coat and as soon as they had cut the lining they discovered the letters
which were hidden there.
"Young Montagnie expected every moment that he would be shot or hanged.
One of the common methods of hanging employed by the cowboys in those
days was to put a noose around the prisoner's neck, tie the rope to the
limb of a tree after they had put the man on horseback, and then, when
they struck the horse and it started quickly, the wretched victim was
left hanging in the air. But for some unexplained reason young Montagnie
was simply kept in the house three days. Then when he still confidently
believed that he was being led to his death he was taken down the Hudson
and carried across to New York, where he was shut up in the old Van
Cortlandt Sugar House, which stood near the corner of what is now
Broadway and Cortlandt Street. You see there were so many American
prisoners in New York that the British had to make use of some of the
big buildings besides the jails."
"Yes," suggested John, "I have heard that they used some of the churches
as jails."
"They did," responded Mr. Sanders.
"Well, what happened to young Montagnie?"
"I was just about to tell you," said Sanders, smiling as he spoke.
"Naturally he felt very bitter when he found himself a prisoner in the
old sugar-house. He was so thoroughly convinced that his capture was
useless and that he might have made his way successfully across the
country to Morristown, that he was angry at Washington for his arbitrary
command.
"However, three days later his keeper showed him a copy of _Rivington's
Gazette_. Rivington was a printer in New York and was a very bitter
Tory. Montagnie was not especially interested when he first took the
paper, but in a moment he was keenly excited when his eye fell upon an
announcement that one of Washington's messengers had been captured and
that valuable information had been found concealed in his coat. The
statement further announced that in this paper was a letter from General
Washington to General Heath in which the commander explained that he was
about to attack the British in New York and expected to find General
Clinton entirely unprepared for such action.
"And at that very time," resumed Mr. Sanders, "Washington with his
little army had crossed the Delaware River and was on his way toward
Yorktown to help Greene and Lafayette. It was impossible now for Clinton
to leave New York, believing as he did that it was about to be attacked,
and even after he had found out the trick which Washington had played
upon him it was too late for him to try to transport his army by sea
because Washington would arrive at Yorktown before the red coats
possibly could come to the aid of Cornwallis. The battle of Yorktown
followed, as you know, and Cornwallis and his army were made prisoners.
Indeed it was at Yorktown that really the final independence of the
Colonies was won. But I have always felt that the part which young
Montagnie took in winning the victory at Yorktown has never been known
as it ought to be."
"What became of him?" inquired Fred.
"I don't know. I have often tried to find out," replied Mr. Sanders.
"You see the men in those days were so busy making history that they had
little time in which to write it. As a consequence there are many things
which we would like to know, but do not."
"Now," continued Mr. Sanders as he arose from his seat, "I understand
that you boys have lost an automobile."
"We didn't lose it," exclaimed George; "it was stolen."
"It seems to me," said Mr. Sanders, "that if you had an automobile and
haven't one now you must have lost it, whatever the way in which it
disappeared."